Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 51

Now it's the same thing again and again. I replay each day, as nothing changes –  the same pain, the same plan, the same people. There's nothing to bring me pleasure or happiness. I do things I used to enjoy before, but as my body is present, my mind is wandering in dangerous places. I paint, but I feel nothing. There are no emotions behind the colors I use, there's no meaning behind the object of my inspiration. I do things just so the day doesn't pass by unnoticed.

I stare out of the windows around the house like I'm a frozen sculpture. There used to be a range of emotions that I felt, but now I watch leaves falling from trees, flowers shedding their petals, and I feel just like them. I think I'm slowly coming apart. There's a presentiment inside myself that tells me I won't bloom again when spring returns. I have a strange feeling that I'll feel this pain forevermore. I'm not sure if it's possible to hold onto such sorrow for years and years, but that's what my brain keeps insisting on, and I’m slowly starting to believe it.

Christmas is close. I've never been one to celebrate it or any other kind of holiday, for that matter, so its approach does nothing to lift my disposition.

I wonder what he's going to do. I hope he's not alone. That's all I want. I should've just persisted and made him go back to his family. It hurts me to think of him on his own during a holiday that appeared to bring him so much happiness.

Even now, I don't understand why he would never accept any kind of help. I tried not to pressure him, but when you see someone who needs help, someone you love who needs help, of course you want to do everything in your power to make them feel happy, but every time I did try to help him, he would be nothing but repulsive. I don't know if it was his pride or something else, but he acted like I was doing charity work.

And now, I don't know how he will get himself out of spending Christmas alone. I don't care how or with whom I will celebrate it with. I know Michael will take care of everything, as he always does.

Speaking of Michael, I’m aware that he has noticed my strange behavior. He has barely paid attention to me lately, but now he watches me like a hawk and asks more questions than he used to. I wonder what is going through his head. I doubt that he has any idea close to the truth, but I still can’t get my mind off it. It's something I can't grasp about Michael. His temper is so inconstant that you have to be a different person to fit whatever phase he is going through.

I try to avoid him as much as I can, which is not very easy, considering that I live in the same house as him. And sleep in the same bed with him.

I haven't thought about Harry knowing that until now. It's so weird how something I tried to hide so desperately is now just an Internet search away from him. He could open Google and find my wedding pictures there, he could see the tens of 'dates' Michael and I went on, the many parties and events he dragged me to, and a lot more aspects of my life that won't take much time to dig out.

Knowing how much he may be hurting right now at the thought of me sleeping in bed with another man, being married to another man, puts an ache in my chest. I wish I had done things differently. The path I could have chosen, the safer, less risky one, looks good now. Another moment with Harry looks good now.

I find myself pausing on different memories with him and missing small things like his smile, hearing him read, watching him sleep peacefully by my side, or driving around together. I go to sleep with him on my mind, I dream of him, and spend my whole day thinking about him. I might be going crazy.

I just do things to get me through the week. I sleep half the day and walk through the house like I’m a ghost. I spend most of my time in one of the spare bedrooms. I want to be alone, but it's inevitable to have to talk and interact with people. I lay down, I walk around the room and lay back down. The floor creaks under my step like it’s speaking back to me. I miss having a conversation with someone. A real conversation. I don’t understand how I lived like I did before I met him. I loved spending time alone, but now I know I wasn’t only alone – I was lonely. I never thought about it much because that’s what I had been used to for years; it was the norm. Being lonely was okay, because that’s all I knew back then, and now, I must adapt again. He had to do this. I know he had to let go.